


burn another castle

by paravin



Series: just a different kind [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Consensual Kink, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Obedience, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Crow learns that Spider and Saint-14 have very different expectations when it comes to obedience.
Relationships: The Crow & The Spider (Destiny), The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: just a different kind [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180688
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	burn another castle

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags - the first part of this is heavy noncon and general bad times (ft. Spider and friend) and while everything in the part with Saint and Osiris is fully consensual, it’s still dealing with Crow’s lingering noncon-related issues.
> 
> written for the prompt of ‘obedience/disobedience’. I will probably poke at some other kink prompts at some point so am open to requests in this vein!

“Do you do this often?”

The question isn’t directed to him, and so Crow keeps his eyes on the floor even as Spider’s guest grips his jaw. The leather of the glove is cold against Crow’s skin and the fingers dig in hard enough to hurt.

Spider’s chuckle rumbles across the room and Crow hears the wet clack of his throat as he gulps down his drink. “It’s rare I find goods worth the barter. My little bird’s time is valuable, after all.”

Judging by the hours Crow has spent as little more than a convenient footstool, that’s a lie, but he hasn’t been permitted to speak and so he doesn’t.

The tubing on the ceiling trembles as Spider strolls closer, resting a hand on his guest’s shoulder. “Shall we begin, Videl?”

Videl is a Reefborn Awoken as far as Crow can tell, tall and broad with purpling hair and cold grey eyes. He’s a fence, with a deep network of contacts in the Dreaming City which Spider covets, and he had already expressed interest in beating Crow to death before Spider offered this as an alternative arrangement.

Videl’s lips curve in a smile when Crow risks a glance up at him and he nods. “At your pleasure, Spider.”

“Strip.”

That one _is_ directed to him, and Crow obeys. He’s done this enough times that his movements are almost mechanical now, a programmed routine of forced vulnerability that runs at Spider’s command, and he tries to ignore the useless shame that twists in his gut as he awaits further orders.

Beside him, Videl hums in approval and Crow closes his eyes as he paces around him, appraising.

The open-handed slap to his cheek catches him off-guard and his eyes fly open again as Videl demands, “Stay here, boy. I don’t want you retreating off into that head of yours.”

Crow nods, cheek stinging, as Videl glances to Spider. “Does he talk?”

Spider’s gaze is accompanied by a grunt of permission and Crow answers, “Yes, sir.”

Crow’s head snaps to the side under the force of the backhanded strike as Videl chides, “I was asking your master.”

“Yes,” Spider says, amused. “He talks when permitted.” His breath comes out in a wheezing laugh. “Has a tendency to talk himself into trouble though.”

Videl smirks. “I see that much hasn’t changed.”

Crow blinks in confusion. He can feel the tension pour off Spider’s body at the comment but Videl seems to sense the danger he’s in as he holds his hand up. “Apologies. A simple mistake.”

“Don’t repeat it,” Spider warns. He moves in, gathering a fistful of Crow’s hair and pulling sharply until Crow’s neck is arched and exposed. 

Crow bites back a cry, keeping his arms in place at his side as Spider says, “Shall we begin?”

Videl nods, stepping back, and the cold metal of Spider’s plates brushes Crow’s cheek as he leans to whisper in his ear, “You’re to keep him off you for at least two minutes, understand? Fail, and…” One of his hands ghosts down Crow’s spine while another settles easily against his throat. “Well, I think we still have one of those barrels lying around somewhere.”

Crow can’t keep from flinching. While none of Spider’s punishments could be deemed mild, having his head held beneath the water of the barrel is too close to the memory of the choking darkness of space, and he nods desperately. “Yes, Baron.”

With a snort, Spider shoves him forward and Crow barely manages to keep his balance in time to drive his shoulder forward into Videl’s chest. Videl grunts, winded and surprised, but Crow avoids the retaliation as he dodges back out of reach.

These fights are meant to be lost. He knows that, and even if he didn’t, the memory of the punishment for his one inadvertent victory is a vivid one. However, after constant daily acquiescence to Spider’s every whim, even this fleeting freedom is a welcome reprieve.

Videl pursues him with a predatory grin. He’s faster than Crow expected, closing the distance between them in seconds, and Crow stumbles at the two quick jabs that Videl lands to his ribs. He kicks out, catching Videl high on the leg, but can’t dodge in time before Videl’s hand closes around his upper arm to throw him back into the wall.

The pipes rattle at the impact and Crow hisses through his teeth as the back of his head smacks against the wall. The dull ache is nothing compared to the sharp spike of pain when Videl brings his elbow up hard against Crow’s temple and Crow cries out, seeing double as Spider tuts from across the room. “Sloppy.”

The spectre of the cold water looms large in his mind and Crow struggles, slipping back into desperation more than technique as Videl hauls him across the room and throws him facedown on the bed. “No-”

He rolls over as soon as he lands, trying to get enough leverage for a kick, but Videl is too quick. Crow knows it’s not a fair fight, knows Videl is clothed and fed and rested and everything he isn’t, but that doesn’t make the humiliation of failure any less potent when Videl smacks him across the face hard enough to make him black out for a second.

It’s only a second but his lapse gives Videl enough time to flip him back over onto his stomach. A gloved hand finds the back of his neck, pinning his face against the sheets with enough force that Crow feels like he’s suffocating, and he can almost feel the water filling his lungs again as he chokes out, “Please-”

The begging won’t change the outcome but he’s learned from experience that it can sometimes buy him the extra time he needs to avoid further punishment. (Many of Spider’s guests are the type to enjoy taunting their prey as much as conquering it.)

He gasps for air when Videl’s hand leaves his neck but his attempts at wriggling free are curtailed when Videl twists his arm sharply behind his back. 

He forces Crow’s knees apart with his thigh and Crow shakes his head as he hears the snick of Videl’s pants opening. “No, please-”

The grip on his arm tightens, his shoulder on the verge of being wrenched from its socket, and Crow blinks back tears of pain as he feels Videl’s length brush against him. The perfunctory prep Spider allowed him isn’t enough — is never enough — and he chokes on a sob as Videl pushes slowly and painfully inside him with a groan of satisfaction.

His vision swims, hazy with pain and tears, but it’s easy enough to make out the form of Spider as he drops into a chair beside the bed. 

“One minute and fifty-two seconds, by my count,” Spider says. “How disappointing.” 

Crow’s heart sinks. “Please,” he begs, “Baron, please, I-”

Spider tosses the dregs of his drink in his face before he can finish. 

“We’ll deal with the consequences of your failure later, little bird,” he promises, reaching out to cup Crow’s face as Videl fucks into him. “Let’s hope you do better next time, hmm?”

———

“Do you do this often?”

“No!” Saint responds, almost offended, at the same time as Osiris says, “Yes.”

Fastening the knot in place, Saint sits back on his heels with a scowl aimed in Osiris’ direction. “I do not! Only when you are disobedient.”

Osiris’ response is muffled past the material in his mouth but Saint ignores him as he shuffles back to where Crow is waiting on all fours. His hands find Crow’s thighs, squeezing gently, and Crow can feel the rumble of his voicebox when Saint kisses the base of his spine. “Now, where were we?”

Crow’s position is enough of a reminder and the thick push of two of Saint’s fingers inside him wrenches a moan from his lips as he squirms on the sheets. Saint twists his hand, stretching and tugging until he drops to his elbows with a gasp, but Crow hesitates when Osiris grumbles a complaint through the sash cinched around his mouth. “I- Should we untie him?”

The ropes were agreed at the start of the evening, Saint binding Osiris’ hands to the headboard while Crow kissed his way from chest to thigh, but as Osiris tugs impatiently on them, Crow can’t help but remember the burn of ropes digging in deep.

“He is fine,” Saint says, his mouth hot against Crow’s spine. “He is used to punishment.”

Despite the warmth of Saint’s hands, Crow can’t hide his shiver. He looks to Osiris again, to the splay of his thighs, the wet patch of saliva on the sash, the heated look in his eyes as he watches Saint open Crow up, but the knot of uncertainty in his chest only gets tighter.

“Saint.”

Even through the gag, Osiris’ voice is clear enough as he looks pointedly between the two of them. Saint is still behind him, his hand an anchor on Crow’s hip, but when Crow blinks, the world is moving too fast somehow. “Wh-”

His head feels like it’s filled with fog. He doesn’t even realise Saint’s fingers have withdrawn until Saint’s in front of him, clean hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Little bird? Are you okay?” 

Crow blinks up at him. He doesn’t understand the concern in Saint’s voice — Crow’s not the one being punished this time. 

At least not yet. 

His breath catches in terror at the thought of it, Saint’s huge hand holding him down beneath the water, and he recoils when Saint shakes him gently by the shoulder. “Crow?”

“Sorry,” he says, sitting back to rest shaking hands against his thighs. “I just- I’m not sure what happened.”

Saint eyes him with concern. “It was the mention of punishment, yes?”

Crow’s flinch seems to be enough of an answer but Saint just watches him carefully as he says, “You think I am hurting him?”

“No,” Crow says quickly. Saint wouldn’t hurt anyone, least of all Osiris. He knows this. He _knows_ this. “You wouldn’t.”

Saint nods, keeping his movements slow and telegraphed as he moves in to kiss Crow on the forehead. Crow bristles a little at being handled like some kind of spooked animal, but it’s not until he feels the steady thrum of Saint’s workings that he realises how fast his own heart is pounding.

Saint brings his hand up, running his thumb over Crow’s cheek in soothing strokes as he says, “We were not clear enough. This was my mistake — I am sorry.” 

He nods to Osiris, not taking his eyes off Crow. “He likes to test his limits. Be mischievous on purpose, so that I will be firm with him.” His eyes shine. “It’s a game, of sorts. He is not in any discomfort, I promise — he would make it loudly known if he was.”

Crow sags. It feels so stupid now — after all the time he’s spent with them, he’s knows their personalities, their preferences, their faults, none of which would involve punishments of the kind he’s so familiar with. 

He lowers his head as embarrassment prickles beneath his skin. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to-”

Saint hushes him, planting a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. “It was my mistake,” he says again. “No apologies on your side.”

Crow swallows past the lump in his throat, still humiliated. 

Saint just kisses him again. “Do you want to continue? Or to stop?”

“Stop?”

“We can stop if you want,” Saint says easily, like he’s offering to turn the heat down instead of offering to stop his own enjoyment because of Crow’s weakness. “It’s been a long week - we are fine with a quiet night.”

Crow frowns at the question. “It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t need to stop because of me.”

Osiris pokes Saint’s thigh with his foot and the two of them share a look that Crow doesn’t understand.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Saint says firmly. “There are three of us here, yes? We only continue if all three wish to.” 

“Majority wins, right?” Crow says, trying for a smile. “Whatever you both want.”

“No.”

The authority in Saint’s voice makes him tense up but the squeeze to his shoulder is just as gentle as always. 

“No,” Saint says again. “It is unanimous. Always. You understand?”

Like everything Saint says, he means it, and Crow takes a second to absord the details of the arrangement. It still feels unfair, giving him a veto over something he’s so new to, but Saint is watching him for an answer and Crow nods. “I understand.”

“Good.” Some of the severity ebbs from Saint’s voice and he kisses him again, letting his faceplate bump again Crow’s nose. “Now, what do you say? Should we continue or should we go clean up and watch that nature program you both like? About the big angry animal?”

“Bear,” Osiris says through his gag.

“Bear!” Saint repeats happily. “I enjoyed the bear. I would like to fight one, I think.”

Both options are appealing but Crow finds himself telling the truth when he says, “We can continue. I’m fine.” He smiles. “Bears will keep ’til later.”

“All right,” Saint says, “if you’re sure.” 

There’s a gleam in his eyes as he kisses him again and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “Come, let me show where Osiris is most ticklish. Then you will understand why we need the gag.”


End file.
